


Party in the Police Station

by ThunderCant



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gore, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Play, Prostate Massage, Size Difference, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 07:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderCant/pseuds/ThunderCant
Summary: Leon is trapped between a rock and a hard place and is fucked either way. One way is just more pleasant than the other.





	Party in the Police Station

**Author's Note:**

> Don't try this at home

There’s not enough words in the English language to describe how absolutely fucked Leon is.

Honestly, it’s sort of a shame that he’s going to be an ugly smear on the wall before anyone can try- his teachers would probably nod solemnly to some edgy teen, describing how his sweat felt like tiny shocks of reality against his burning skin and his heart pounded out a mournful scream with every second. They’d give the kid a solid B- for describing the way his eyes shattered like the blood-spattered windows gave way to the bleak outside, no longer reflecting what little light remained. Hell, maybe even boosting it to a B if they managed to throw in something about snatching each breath from death.

 _I should’ve been a poet_ , Leon thinks. It’s a little hysterical, but he has to hold onto what he can when there’s batshit fuckery zombies _outside_ and extremely long-tongue zombies _inside_ and whatever the _fuck_ category Mr Tiny and his stupid hat fall into.

In much the same way there aren’t enough words to describe Leon’s misfortune, there’s also not enough words to describe the ungodly monstrosity that is Mr Tiny. The best that can be said about him is that he’s _obvious_. He’s an earthquake wrapped in a human shape. A persistent, at least sort-of intelligent earthquake. It’s not so much that Leon can’t outrun him, it’s that Mr Tiny doesn’t _stay_ outrun. Sure, he only ever walks towards Leon, but Leon’s certain that the enormous asshole must be sprinting from place to place _just_ to keep being dramatic.

But that’s besides the point, because at present, Mr Tiny is maybe three steps (that is, three of his enormous steps, not Leon’s normal-human-person ones) behind Leon and there’s a Licker at the end of the corridor. A licker that’s preoccupied with a delicious head that it’s found, but still a noise-sensitive, flesh-hungry licker.

Leon grinds to a halt. Mr Tiny’s steps stop. The licker continues to eat the head.

His shadow is swallowed by the Tyrant’s. He can feel the heat dripping off the beast.

What’s it waiting for?

The licker’s snarling overshadows Leon’s own harsh breathing. It’s stuck its tongue into the head’s eyesocket, and Leon is uncomfortably reminded of being fourteen with his first girlfriend.

The shadow grows longer. The warmth builds. He can feel its breath dusting over his hair.

He finally dares to turn his head, to try and catch sight of the Tyrant. Maybe he wants to be dramatic. Maybe he wants to be sure Leon catches the licker’s attention, and that there’s nothing left of him.

Mr Tiny’s hands clamp on his shoulders and Leon yelps. The licker freezes. It turns its head towards them, and Leon prickles.

But it doesn’t come. He bites his lip. The licker seems satisfied, turning back to its treat.

The Tyrant moves. One hand up to his face, stroking his cheek and brushing against his lips, the other slowly moving down along his arm. It slides under and with a sharp huff, Leon’s up in the air. He kicks out, thumping against the Tyrant and-

“Ssschluk?”

Freezes. Tiny’s hand tightens. A warning.

That head must taste amazing, because it’s saved him twice. He wishes there were something similar to distract Mr Tiny and his slow descent from Leon’s face to his other side. He’s so big. It’s one thing to have all that bigness following him around when he can hardly afford to look back, its quite another to have all of it pressed against his chest and back. His hand is big enough to encase him. Leon doesn’t think he’s a small guy by any means, but it’s hard not to feel like a shrimp when the monster holding him could crush his skull in one hand.

Tiny turns him around and crushes Leon against his chest, peering down. He raises a finger to his lips.

That bastard.

Leon presses his lips into a thin line as Mr Tiny resumes his careful exploration of Leon’s body. It’s so tempting to scream. Just yell as loud as he can, hope it startles the big guy, and maybe the licker will get all high-school boy learning to make out on The Tyrant. Sadly, Leon’s not sure he can muster the energy to do that, or the air. Tiny’s pressed him into his pecs.

There’s heat in his face, but he’s not entirely sure it’s from whatever unholy bio-engine is powering the tyrant. Because yeah, Tiny’s chest is warm. Frightfully warm. And Leon’s face is smashed into it, like some awful parody of motorboating.

Tiny’s hand, the one that isn’t holding him prisoner against his chest, settles on the curve of his ass. Stroking it. Slowly. Like this is a sensual bit of fun with a lover and not the weirdest seedy feel-up Leon’s ever had.

Not the worst, _somehow_ , but the weirdest.

 _If I put this guy above that crazy guy in the academy,_ he thinks, as Tiny slides past his pants and into his boxers, still delightfully hot, _I’m throwing myself to the licker._

Yep, that’s a hand on his dick. Massaging all along the length like Tiny’s luxuriating in the feel of Leon’s cock, starting to twitch.

Leon’s breath catches. He wriggles, fidgets, until he can pull one of his arms out and dig it into Tiny’s stupid coat. He needs something to ground him because shit, it’s starting to feel good. Tiny’s hand rolling against his dick, fondling his balls, dipping towards his ass, all while the other one keeps Leon pinned in place. No noises but his occasional breaths and the sick ‘schluk schluk’ of the licker and its meal.

It’s so warm. His cock is dribbling precome, slow like the building drops on the windows, and it’s spreading across Tiny’s hand as it works his shaft, slow as he likes.

_Who even taught him this?_

The thought vanishes with most of Leon’s sense as Tiny decides to start nudging his entrance. And maybe, if Leon was in a normal place without a sound-sensitive nightmare behind him, he’d have argued.

Instead, he buries his face into Tiny’s coat and bites the material. There’s not a lot of give though. It feels much more like he’s biting Tiny’s tits.

Which is what Tiny seems to think he’s doing. And pauses.

He _smiles_ , which Leon thinks might be enough to make him piss himself if his dick wasn’t hard. He has to force a whine back down his throat as Tiny withdraws his hand, brings it up to his coat, and pulls it down.

Leon has to re-evaluate what he thinks could scare him shitless, because Tiny’s chest is an exercise in contradictions. He’s burning hot and full of life, while parts of his chest are falling apart. Leon can see his muscles pulsing, angrily, even when Tiny moves back down, savouring another chance to push Leon’s clothes out of the way, trailing down his skin until he reached a prize once more. He feels like a trophy, set out to be enjoyed, and by _god_ , Tiny is enjoying him. He can feel the guy’s dick rubbing against his leg. What sort of monster does he have in there?

Leon thinks about the licker’s tongue, how long and thick it is.

He applies it to Tiny’s…tiny friend. Leon gulps.

Time to think of other things. Like Tiny’s chest. And Tiny’s hands. And Tiny’s hands that are pressing past his asshole ever so slowly, warmly, like he’s savouring how the muscles give way.

Leon barely catches the hiss before it draws the licker’s attention. Behind him is death, because he’s willing to bet that Tiny knows what a prostate is, and Leon’s never been much good at hiding how he feels about that.

In front of him is a meaty pec with a hot, hard nipple, and, well, fuck it. He’s been invited. He presses forwards, as much as he can, and noses around it. Surprisingly human, really.

Leon closes around it and _sucks._

Tiny presses past his asshole, and he feels like he’s splitting apart. He’s pretty sure Tiny’s fingers are bigger than any of the douchebags he’d let slam into him, and they had lube.

Leon drowns out the need to scream by focusing all his effort on the thing in his mouth. Sucking and licking it, lathing it with all the attention that he needs to keep some self-control.

It’s all for nothing.

Tiny suddenly swings round, pressing him up against the wall and caking him in dust. His legs are forced apart, Tiny’s other hand briefly leaving his side because-

The licker shrieks, charging forwards, and for its trouble it is crushed. Crushed by the hand that’s back at Leon’s side, forgoing quiet now that the danger has passed- hell, not that Tiny was even _in_ danger.

Tiny rubs his prostate and Leon groans, hard. His face is wet from his own spit, rubbing against the monster’s chest. His dick is still leaking, his ass aching and burning deliciously-

There’s nowhere to turn. Leon bites down.

Tiny drives into his ass, thigh rubbing Leon’s cock. Leon whines. There’s too much stimulation, his ass, his cock, his mouth, the thick and cloying smell of blood and sweat. Safely pinned up against the wall, Tiny rocks and Leon whines, hard, around his nipple. All the heat around him coalesces in his belly, too hot, too heavy, like a symphony playing directly in his head.

It feels like he’s being led to paradise, cock-first. Tiny pushing up into his prostate, stretching him, splitting him, until the world falls away and all the heat bursts from him. He’s hot, so hot, jerking in place as Tiny works him through his orgasm.

All the tension falls out of him at once. He’s a ragdoll, heart burning with the effort of simply raising his head.

He can’t do it. He falls slack, boneless, nothing but a puddle of sweat and hormones.

Tiny’s still packing though. His dick’s hard to miss, desperately trying to break out of his pants. The Tyrant sets him down, unzips, and lets the monster loose. It’s less of a penis and more of a third leg. Leon has no idea how he’s going to fit any of that into any part of his body.

 _And somehow_ , thinks the horrible, hysterical part of his brain as Tiny guides him forwards, _he’s still a better lay than you had in college_.


End file.
